


Reflection

by AngelofDarkness1605



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:59:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8156503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelofDarkness1605/pseuds/AngelofDarkness1605
Summary: When Belle French asks him to tailor the revealing dress she bought, Mr. Gold is against his better judgment utterly unable to refuse her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Inkfire for the wonderful beta work.

"Mr. Gold, can I ask you a favor?"

The pawnbroker in question is almost grateful that his one and only friend finally voices this much feared question, for it at least distracts him from noticing characteristics about her that no friend should—from aching for intimacies that friends don't long for.

"Of course you can, Miss French," he replies tensely.

In his heart, Mr. Gold has always known that the one and only reason that Belle French befriended him couldn't possibly be sheer kindness. Still, in the precious and considerable time they have spent together for several months, there has never been a single sign of her ulterior motives, lulling him into a false sense of security... until now.

Still, he's quite certain that the librarian knows as well as he does that he can't refuse her anything… and he doesn't resent her for it, her company far too meaningful. Investing in the library or funding whatever holiday she has set her eyes on will be a very small price to pay compared to the pleasure of having her in his life.

"You have some experience as a tailor, haven't you?"

"I... I do, yes," he says, not having expected this particular inquiry. "Although that experience doesn't go beyond mending clothing."

"That should be good enough. You see, yesterday I bought a gorgeous dress, but it's slightly too wide at some parts. I couldn't _not_ buy it, but I can't really wear it the way it is. Could you take a look at it for me? It would be wonderful if you were able to alter it so it fits me properly. If it's no trouble."

"It's... it's no trouble at all."

Trying not to stare at her radiant smile and bright blue eyes, Mr. Gold wonders whether she can truly be asking only so little of him... and how he could have expected anything else from the modest woman with her ever so kind heart.

"I've got it right here with me," she says, gesturing at the bag she took with her to his shop this afternoon. It had definitely piqued his curiosity, but she didn't mention it and he supposed she would do so if she liked. "I think it's best that I wear it to show you what I'd like to be fixed. Is it all right with you if I change into it right now?"

"Of course," he says, gesturing to the back room of his shop even as it dawns on him that this means Belle is going to change her clothing only a very short distance from him.

"Thanks!" she says, heading towards the other room while brushing her fingers over his shoulder.

Mr. Gold only gives in to the strong urge to shudder in delight once she has disappeared behind the curtain separating the two rooms, very much aware that she can never know how much her friendly, casual touches mean and do to him if he wants to continue enjoying the blessing of her company.

Barely managing not to linger on the fact that the woman he's secretly in love with is in all likelihood half naked in the other room, the pawnbroker does his best to think of nothing but the watch he was repairing before she came by.

"You've got a lovely big mirror here," comes her voice from behind the curtain after a few minutes. "Can you join me here so we can make use of it?"

"I'm heading towards you right now," he replies, firmly reminding himself not to betray any sign of his inappropriate interest in her when he has to take a close look at the clothing covering her body.

When he steps through the curtain to the back room of the shop and lets his eyes adjust to the dim light, he first thinks that his mind is playing tricks on him, taking in the sight of her as she turns to face him. But after furiously blinking several times and going so far as to—discreetly—squeeze his own arm, there's nothing unreal or imaginary about either the skintight green dress she's wearing or the way it hardly covers her breasts at all.

He instinctively looks away, strongly feeling that he shouldn't see her in such a state of relative undress. But while doing so, he spots the clothing she was wearing until a few minutes ago piled neatly on the cot on the side of the room... with what appears to be a lacy bra lying on top.

"So what do you think, Mr. Gold?" she asks, stepping towards him, drawing his attention back to her despite his only barely seconds old resolution not to look at her again. "Do you think you can make a better fit?"

She points at her cleavage and although he has rarely wished more intently that he were a better man, the landlord can't do anything but stare right at her chest. Swallowing heavily, it takes him a doubtlessly too long while to look beyond her pale, flawless skin and the gentle curves of which a considerable part is exposed.

At last it dawns on him what she apparently wants him to tailor; although she hasn't said so, it becomes obvious even to him that the upper hemline of her dress is made for a woman with a more considerable bosom than the too lovely one currently stepping towards him.

As it is, the low-hanging fabric shifts dangerously across her chest with every step and every breath she takes. But it's only when he's quite certain that he's just caught sight of a rosy, utterly forbidden nipple that Mr. Gold can bring himself to look away again.

"So what do you think?"

"Think of what?" he all but squeals, unable to think of anything but the body of the stunning woman he shouldn't be thinking of at all, especially now that she's so close to him.

"Maybe you need to take a better look," he hears her saying as if from a distance as he stares at the relatively safe sight of her lower half.

Or at least, he does so until yet another step towards him reveals that her feet—her small, very lovely feet—are bare as well. But by then it's too late; she's gotten so close that there's nowhere left for him to look but at her when the hem of her dress almost brushes his trousers—and her chest his.

"Let's get some more light in here, shall we?" she says quietly.

Before the landlord has actually closed his eyes to prevent himself from looking down at her breasts, she steps away from him. It's both a relief and a frustration that she isn't so close to him any longer, a vague scent of roses the only reminder that she just willingly got so near him.

The fact that an increase of light in the currently rather dark room will only make her more visible to him doesn't dawn on Mr. Gold before she has already switched on an antique lamp in the corner. Just like that, the back room of his shop is bathed in a generous amount of soft light.

If he doesn't rush out of the room right there and then, it is only because she has moved to stand in front of the full-length, equally antique mirror in the opposite corner, her back towards him. Now that her breasts are no longer on display, he allows himself a first, proper look at her.

For obvious reasons he didn't notice before, but now he finds that the fabric she's wearing is of a gorgeous kind. Dark green, it fits her like a second skin—at the back at least. The dress itself is surprisingly modest, without any details other than lines of silver embroidery on the sleeves, hemline and waist.

All in all, the librarian who is already gorgeous in her own right looks simply _stunning_ in the new dress—and he is in deep, deep trouble.

"Come take a look?" she asks, looking at him from over her shoulder in a way that makes him think yet more things he has no right to consider when she's anywhere near him, let alone when she looks like _this_. "It won't take long, I promise. If you don't want to tailor it for me, just say the word. No hard feelings."

Mr. Gold is very much aware that she's giving him an out, quite literally telling him that she won't mind if he doesn't offer her his assistance after all. He can walk away right now, and nothing will change between them.

Indeed, he _should_ walk away.

Instead, enchanted as he is, he tentatively approaches her while she studies her image in the mirror, turning both the dress and her own body this way and that.

"May I inquire where you bought this dress, Miss French?" he manages to ask without sounding utterly wrecked—or at least, he thinks he does. "It's rather impressive."

"I found it in a thrift store in Boston," she replies, smiling at him in the mirror. "Can you believe it? I just _had_ to have it, even though the fit isn't quite right."

"Indeed," he mutters, suppressing just in time the urge to tell her that she looks like a fairytale princess, a creature too beautiful for this world, and that he is entirely under her spell.

"Can you take a look?"

Her voice is so gentle, so innocent, that Mr. Gold can't deny her. So that's why _he_ approaches her now rather than the other way around, only coming to a standstill once he's standing right in front of her, the lapels of his suit almost brushing against her as he holds her gaze in the mirror the whole time.

"I'd be so happy if you could make it fit me properly," she says, smiling a wholly undeserved smile at him.

"I'll see what I can do," he mutters because, more than anything, he _wants_ to make her happy.

He has been hiding his love and desire for so long now; surely he can continue doing so, even though it has never been more difficult to keep his feelings for her as secret as they ought to be.

To buy himself some time as he mentally braces himself, the landlord acclimatizes to her, in a way, by first focusing on the relatively less tempting parts of her. Or at least, so he thought. As it turns out, the sight of the elegant column of her neck, yet more pale in contrast to the dark green of her dress, is more than enough to send his blood racing and burning through his veins.

Her long hair is very lovely too, and so close to him that he can _smell_ it, the sweet scent of her and roses alike. Not to mention the curve of her shoulder, and further below that... And yet, all of that pales in comparison to the reaction of his body and mind alike when he eventually peers over her shoulder again to focus on the overly plunging neckline that she wants him to fix.

She may have been exposed before, but at least she was still covered to _some_ extent. All Mr. Gold can do is gasp in shock when he looks at her now, his cane clattering loudly to the floor, realizing only too late that the dress is yet more useless at covering her from this angle than it already was before.

Even as his consciousness screams at him to look away, there's a much more primal part of him that can't tear his gaze from her now that it is solely focused on what can only be described as Belle French's bare breasts. It may have seemed unlikely that the low neckline of the dress and gravity alone could have revealed so much of her to his treacherous gaze, but there's no questioning that—or anything, really—now that he sees her like this.

His legs only barely continue to carry his weight while he stares at her perfect breasts, his attention mostly occupied by their peaks, the way they move along with her chest with each and every breath she takes.

It doesn't escape his attention that the librarian appears to inhale less deeply and more frequently under his scrutiny, no doubt aware of—and horrified by—the way he's reacting to her. And yet she makes no move whatsoever to get away from him, and even _smiles_ when he manages to drag his gaze away from her chest for the briefest of moments, searching her face for any hint of why she might be doing this.

Still, the fact that the librarian doesn't seem to mind—and, for some reason, appears to _like_ —what she is doing to him only confuses him further. Bewildered and perverted as he is, all Mr. Gold can do is look downwards again, memorizing the sight of her to the best of his abilities, against his wishes.

"Your br... I can see your breasts, Miss French," he dumbly brings out after another few highly uncomfortable and guiltily arousing seconds, finding a part of him that turns out to be still capable of letting her know what boundary has been crossed.

"I was hoping you could," she says, her tone dominated by something he can't identify.

"I beg your pardon?!" he mutters, still unable to tear his eyes away from her by now heaving chest.

"I knew you'd probably be able to see my breasts from where you are standing now," she says, as if that explained all of this rather than to make it only more confusing. "That's why I asked you to stand there to begin with."

"Miss French, please, if you _knew_ that... how on earth did you think it was appropriate to come to me like this?"

"I didn't."

"You didn't what?!" the landlord asks, at this point not even knowing anymore whether to be mystified or aroused—or both.

"I know very well that it isn't appropriate for one friend to be undressed like this in front of another without having some sort of... understanding first."

"So why are you..." he says, definitely experiencing more bafflement than lust right now.

"Like I said, this wouldn't be appropriate behavior for the friends I like to think we are. But for a woman who is falling in love with a man who seems oblivious to each and every advance she has made so far, no matter how seemingly unsubtle… It might just do the trick."

"What are you saying?"

Mr. Gold takes one staggering, disbelieving step towards her, getting as close as he can while his body already surges in response to the words that his mind can barely process.

He doesn't dare reach for her with his hands yet, wouldn't _know_ how to touch her with his undeserving fingers even if she truly wanted him to, but his front presses none too gently against her back, leaving no room whatsoever to conceal his arousal.

"I'm falling in love with you," she says, those words making it very easy for him after all to hold her gaze in the mirror. "I've tried over and over again to find out if you feel the same way about me, but you never react at all."

When there comes a time in which he isn't driven to distraction by what she's telling him while standing so very close to him, the landlord is going to seriously reconsider each and every moment they have spent in each other's presence since the moment they became better acquainted.

As it is now, he can only stare into her face in disbelief, unable to believe that she's truly telling him that she's in love with him. Having gotten to know her like he has, he dares to be certain that this isn't a trick, that she isn't toying with him for her amusement or manipulating him for her own gain. But there is simply _no way_ she can feel the same about him as he does for her.

"Miss French, you can't possibly mean to say..."

"I do, Mr. Gold. I do."

There is something in her eyes that prevents him from questioning her exclamation again. Instead, he continues to look at her in the reflection of the glass in front of them, discerning something different than before.

He has always seen the incredibly kind and beautiful woman she is when he looked at her. But now that he does so with the knowledge of what she just said, despite his inability to believe it, he notices something else too. There's a light in her eyes, a radiance almost, that's there even when she looks at _him_.

Indeed, he realizes that there's a _happiness_ about her when she's gazing at him, even now that she's as exposed as he was convinced no woman would ever want to be in his presence. Yet more shockingly, it dawns on him now that this light in her eyes isn't all that new; it has been there for almost as long as they have been friends.

"You... you are falling in love with me?" he rasps, still not entirely believing it, but not entirely _not_ believing it any longer either.

"I am," she whispers, her smile fading. "And I would really, _really_ like to know whether you feel the same way."

"I... I do," he says hoarsely, only then realizing that she has bared herself to him in more than one way while he remained standing there like a fool, _staring_ at her without saying anything in return, let alone confirming that her plan has been successful to say the least and that he definitely returns her feelings. " _I do_."

"You do?" she breathes, being the one who sounds disbelieving this time.

"I do," he repeats in a whisper. "I... I love you, Miss French."

"You do?" she asks again in a rather different tone, her smile widening.

"I love you... _Belle_ ," he murmurs meaningfully, the syllables of her first name sounding so very sweet if slightly forbidden on his lips.

"Well then," she says, shivering in a way he knows isn't due to fear or discomfort. "Here we are."

"Here we are," he echoes, his eyes straying downwards once more.

It may have been incredible before to see her like this, somehow appearing utterly at ease in the way she shows her body to him, but it's something else entirely to know for certain that she _wants_ to be in this situation with him... that she seems to want _him_.

"You like seeing my breasts?" she asks, sounding actually coy despite the situation.

It reminds him that while he may have finally told her that he feels the same way about her as she does about him, he still hasn't commented on the almost unearthly sight she's currently providing to him.

"You are... you are utterly breathtaking, Belle," he whispers, pausing for a moment to take in her entire body. "All of you. I've been in love with your eyes and your smile for so long, but seeing you like this..."

If he ever tried to convince himself that he could keep his love for her on a platonic level, the landlord now knows once and for all that no such thing is possible.

"As for your breasts," he adds lowly, subconsciously licking his lips, "they're... they're _perfect_."

"So you like seeing them?" she asks, not sounding coy at all any longer, although her cheeks turn a lovely shade of red.

"More than I can ever tell you."

"Then why don't you show me?"

Mr. Gold abruptly looks back at her face for clarification. They may have established that he loves her and that she is starting to love him, which is a miracle in itself, but she can't possibly mean for him to actually...

"Touch me?" she whispers, looking meaningfully down at her bosom.

He nods, but her breasts aren't what he is thinking of when he starts to bring her request into practice. The landlord has always made certain to refrain from any physical contact between them, afraid—convinced—that even a brush of their hands would be enough to betray his feelings for her.

But there's no danger of that any longer. In fact, Miss French— _Belle_ —looks at him as if she wanted nothing more than to have his hands all over her. For him, however, the mere prospect of touching her has his heartbeat and breath alike increasing to an almost alarming rhythm.

Still, there's nothing but affection—indeed, _love_ —written on her face as she watches him with an eagerness a more rational part of him still finds difficult to believe. But her encouraging smile tells him that she, too, wants them to touch and just get started _somewhere_.

"So beautiful..." he mutters in awe when he finally reaches for her with quivering hands that he rests very carefully on her upper arms, just above her elbows.

He could barely have chosen a more chaste part of her body to touch, but this contact already has him reeling. It's also the first time he actually touches the dress that got them in this situation, _together_.

For the sake of his sanity, he first focuses on the fabric beneath his fingertips and palms. The color of it is yet more beautiful than he already thought now that he examines it from such a close distance. It also becomes quite apparent that the dark green is a beautiful match to her blue eyes, the brightness and sheer life in them yet more startling than usual.

But no matter how soft and wonderful the satin covering her skin is, it's nothing compared to actually feeling _her_ when Mr. Gold very, very carefully moves both his hands from her arms to the top of her hands, brushing her bare skin for the first time.

She shivers a little at the contact, and by now he knows better than to blame that on any negative reaction from her side, if only just. He quivers in delight, too, a lovely if wholly unfamiliar sensation.

Gaining slightly more courage and confidence now that she clearly isn't objecting to his touch, he begins to stroke his hands lightly up and down Belle's arms, savoring each and every moment. Really, it's a pleasure in its own right to touch her at all, to feel the heat of her body through the satin directly beneath his fingertips.

But after a considerable time of just stroking her arms and hands like this, and with the knowledge that she isn't only willing to be touched more but would actually _like_ to, Mr. Gold opts for a bolder strategy.

Holding her gaze in the mirror once more to make certain he isn't missing any potential sign of discomfort, he steps yet closer towards her. He must have been hard from the moment he lay eyes on her in that gorgeous dress, or at the very latest since he partially saw her _out_ of it, in a way—but he only becomes aware of it when he pushes himself lightly against her.

Belle must have realized before him just how aroused he was, or at least she must have suspected it, for she doesn't look surprised at all when he presses hotly against her backside, groaning against her neck. She gasps in reaction, but her excited smile, once more, leaves no ambiguity whatsoever about her being the opposite of disturbed by his state and nearness.

Still, the landlord himself is mystified to say the least to find himself in such a situation with the woman who is the light of his life. Finding out that his love for her is reciprocated is bewildering enough as it is, but the force with which his body reacts to hers is at least equally overwhelming.

Of course, he has always known that _if_ she were to welcome his feelings, his mind and body alike would barely be able to cope. But the reality of feeling her skin, her lush curls tickling his face, leaves his knees buckling and his breath ragged.

"Why don't you hold on to me?" she kindly suggests, taking his hands in her own from where they hang limply at his sides to guide them to her stomach.

He's only more overtaken by their closeness now that he's practically embracing her from behind, his front pushed flush to her back, but the landlord feels considerably more anchored as he holds on to her like this. Still, any capability he had to expand their intimacy only a short while ago seems to be robbed away by this relatively minor change.

"This is lovely, isn't it?" Belle remarks quietly.

She makes no move other than to place her hands on his where they are now lying on the softness and warmth of her belly, and to lean backwards against him a little more. He nods at her in gratitude, sensing that she's giving him the chance to get slightly used to this level of intimacy before moving forward again.

Although it seems as difficult to imagine as anything that's happening between them right now, something about her posture tells him that perhaps he isn't the only one to be out of their depth.

"Yes, it is," he agrees, finding that his voice is quivering as well.

" _Very_ lovely."

He nods in further agreement, speechless that the situation is getting more and more wonderful with each second in which she doesn't recoil from him in disgust after all. As if that weren't miraculous enough yet, she continues to touch him in return, currently starting to caress his hands with her fingertips, just like he did for her.

The discovery that she isn't bothered either that he doesn't sweep her off her feet and is hardly making any advances at all further encourages him to take this whole new side of their relationship slowly, rather than to rush blindly into the great unknown.

Her neck is almost right in front of his face and suddenly, it seems relatively easy to bend down slightly and kiss the elegant column of it. The first press of his lips against her flawless skin is as light as it can be, but when she moans softly and nods in encouragement, he presses his mouth more firmly against her skin.

Before he knows it, he's kissing and even licking her neck with a passion he didn't know he was capable of. To his bewilderment, Belle reacts in kind, her sounds of approval becoming only louder as he gets slightly more confident and openly enthusiastic.

Only after a while does he become aware that his hands are roaming over the lower half of her torso, boldly sweeping over her belly and hips. There's no telling whether a primal part of himself has initiated this or whether it has been started by her hands, which are still covering his own.

"I'm not really asking you to fix the dress," she says hoarsely while he's still mouthing her neck, looking at him through radiant, half-closed eyes in the mirror. "I wouldn't want to wear it in public even if it fit me properly."

"You don't want to wear this dress again?" he asks as he breaks away from her for just a moment, taking in the spectacular sight of her.

Each and every time he thinks that she couldn't possibly get more beautiful, she simply _does_. Then again, there's nothing that could have prepared him for the sight of her standing in the circle of his arms like this, her chest heaving with arousal that _he_ of all people somehow managed to cause.

"I would like to wear it again," she says, her eyes practically smoldering, "but only for you."

"You'd wear it again, for _me_?!"

"I'd love to. I'd _very much_ love to."

"I'd tailor it a thousand times over if I could see you in this dress more often. So yes, I'd love that too, very, very much so."

"That's settled then," she says sultrily, her voice further increasing his desire, especially when she purposefully rubs herself slightly backwards, moving right against where his body wants her the most. "But not just yet. In fact, I'd prefer you to help me get out of it right now."

Once more, he briefly thinks that she can't possibly mean what he thinks she does, but when she wiggles her shoulders a little, he is persuaded again that her desire for him goes yet further than he can believe right now. The small movement is enough for the fabric which previously still covered her somewhat to drop down to her waist, exposing her upper body entirely.

All he can do in response is go still and openly _stare_ at her flawless torso, making himself look yet more like a fool... a wholly unattractive and unlovable fool, that is.

"I think I need some help getting the dress off properly," she says over her shoulder.

There's no doubt in his mind that she knows as well as he does that he is in no shape to assist her, even if she somehow weren't able to get out of the dress on her own. But then she bites her lip provocatively and glances down his body in a yet more sinful manner, prompting him to hastily comply with her request.

His hands are clumsy, offending almost, when they reach for the fabric of the dress and help it slide down her body. Instinctively, he makes certain not to touch her with his undeserving fingers, no matter how badly they tremble and how clearly she has all but told him that she for some reason would _like_ him to touch her.

"So, what might we do now?" she asks as she carelessly flings her dress over a nearby chair and goes to stand right in front of him once more.

"I... I don't know," he stammers, staring at her now that she has revealed yet more of her splendor to him.

He may have been dumbfounded before, but he is utterly incapable to do anything at all, even think, as she stands like this between him and the mirror, wearing nothing but her panties, which seem to be half transparent to boot.

"It was a rhetorical question, Mr. Gold... an offer, if you like."

Managing to drag his gaze away from her body to meet her eyes again, he finds that her

gaze has softened as she looks at him with unexplainable but unmistakable fondness.

"Hold me again?" she requests softly.

Nodding jerkily, he does as she asks, finding it more difficult than ever before to believe that this is truly happening as she turns around and he tentatively embraces her from behind once more.

"Just like that, yes," she says, sighing as if she were _happy_ that he's holding her like this, their bodies unavoidably touching.

Belle smiles at him in the mirror, encouraging him to lock his arms around her and rest his entwined fingers on her bare belly, going as far as to cover them with her own elegant hands.

The landlord may not understand what is happening, be barely convinced that any of this is real, but as long as she's actively urging him on like this, he's going to savor these moments to the very best of his abilities.

Then again, the only way he can hold her like this without his mind entirely overloading is to pretend that Belle isn't nearly as undressed as she actually is. Which doesn't mean that he is nearly as calm and composed as he would like to be; feeling the heat of her bare skin through his clothes and looking into her radiant eyes is in its own right almost more than he can endure.

"I like you, Mr. Gold, I _really_ like you," she simply says, after quite some time has passed with them doing little more than stand like this together, both of them breathing raggedly. "Couldn't you tell?"

"I had no idea, Miss French. No idea whatsoever."

"I can tell now, however, that you do like me very much as well," she says cheekily, purposefully moving back up against him.

The landlord suspects that his eyes momentarily roll back in his head in reaction to the friction. He can't hold back a groan at the reminder that she isn't disgusted by his attraction for her, that she in fact thoroughly enjoys it.

"Saying that I like you 'very much' is an understatement, I'm afraid," he says once he somehow trusts his ability to speak again, his voice hoarse.

" _Good_ ," she whispers, rubbing her behind against his groin once more.

Mr. Gold can't hold back an expletive, nor resist the urge to grind himself right back into her, using their joined hold as leverage. Given the way she moans in return and tightens her grasp on him, she very much approves.

"Touch me. _Please_."

This time, he no longer wants to deny them both. Gently withdrawing his hands from her own, he places his palms on her waist instead, shivering from the feeling of her hot and ever so soft skin. His gaze sweeps down her body again, widening when it takes in the sight of his hands resting on her hips, before her flushed chest catches his attention.

Indeed, there's more than just the wonderful sight of her skin reddening all the way down her torso. Caressing her sides, his gaze once more focuses on her breasts.

"Touch _them_ ," she whispers.

Just like that, it isn't all that unlikely any longer for him to actually touch the part of her that his eyes have been admiring all this time. His heart racing and his breath coming in rapid, shallow rasps, the landlord slides his hands upwards.

He isn't the only one gasping when he carefully cups her breasts in his hands. No matter how tempting the sight of them is, his eyes fly immediately back to her face to gauge her reaction. To his relief and joy, Belle is still smiling, letting out another low moan when he squeezes her lightly and experimentally.

"Show me what you like?" he has the presence of mind to ask, smiling hopefully at this potential opportunity to please her and to mask his own lack of expertise at the same time.

She nods enthusiastically, covering his hands with her own once more. Soon, none of them is smiling any longer. No matter how much he enjoyed that previous delight between them, he doesn't consider that as a loss at all, for it's replaced by joy of a whole different kind when their combined efforts has her breathing heavily and pushing herself into his hands and front alike.

At that point it only seems natural to invitingly brush his lips against her neck and to kiss and nuzzle the tender skin there again when she wordlessly accepts his offer. Never taking his eyes off her in the mirror, the landlord becomes bolder and bolder in his exploration of her.

Before he knows it, Belle is moving and making noises that appear to go beyond his touches alone, her eyes tightly closed and her eagerness continuing even in the moments when his hands falter in sheer mesmerization.

It's only when she questioningly guides one of his hands down her torso, towards the soft fabric of her panties, that it occurs to Mr. Gold that she is hoping for them to share yet more than they're already experiencing.

"Please?" she whispers, hooking the thumb of her still free hand beneath the waistband.

Not wanting to deny her anything even if her request weren't nearly that wonderful for him as well, the landlord assists her as she eases her panties down, watching with wide eyes how they slide down her legs and are casually kicked aside.

The fact that he doesn't know how to touch her at all, how to satisfy the arousal he has somehow almost unintentionally caused, is momentarily forgotten when she's standing right in front of him in all her naked glory.

"I can show you, if you like," she adds, looking at him hopefully.

"Yes, _yes_ ," he rasps, belatedly realizing that he has once more lost himself in staring at her rather than to even attempt to react to her the way she deserves. "There's nothing I'd rather do than touch you, sweetheart, make you happy. Please know that... and please have mercy on an old man who doesn't know what to do even when the stunning woman he's in love with tells him."

"You're hardly _old_ ," she simply says, looking at him with such sincere conviction that it almost brings tears to his eyes. "Besides, this doesn't have to be perfect the first time, does it? We can always try again... and again... and _again_ if we like, don't you agree?"

"I suppose we could, yes," he brings out, his body and mind reeling yet further at the discovery that she's already all but asking him to do this again.

Her apparent conviction that she's going to enjoy this despite his own doubts would have made him only more nervous, but there's something strangely calming about the way she matter-of-factly takes his hand in her own and unceremoniously guides it between her legs.

When his fingertips encounter her wet heat, there's no more space for worry or doubts. In fact, for a while he isn't even thinking about her pleasure itself any longer, too filled with wonder and awe now that he's touching a woman like this for the very first time.

Much more importantly, he never forgets that this is _Belle_ he is touching like that; wonderful, beautiful Belle whom he has been in love with for longer than he wants to acknowledge. Now that he's touching her so intimately, against all odds, there's nothing that could have prepared him for the scent of her, musky and heavy, for her warmth and slipperiness.

He's exploring her almost mindlessly, barely aware of her hand guiding his, getting somewhat familiar with the sheer exhilarating sensations of touching her like this. Only when her increasingly loud moans reach his consciousness does Mr. Gold recall how utterly important it is to make this good for her somehow, to not ruin this incredible chance he has been given.

His eyes flying back to the reflection of her face in the mirror, he finds that her eyelids are half shut and that there's a smile on her face. But no matter how encouraged he is by this, his movements falter altogether when his gaze drifts downwards and he takes in the sight of his fingers between her thighs.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she whispers, her eyes fluttering open.

"Yes," he rasps, her dark, smoldering eyes as enchanting as the sight of his highly intimate touch.

It's beyond him how _she_ can find anything wonderful in his red face and perspiring hands, but she smiles and nods in confirmation regardless.

Holding his gaze, she shifts a little in front of him, widening her stance. Glancing down in the mirror once more a few seconds later, he instinctively withdraws his hand to gawk at the glistening flesh she has revealed to him.

"Right there," she says throatily, pointing at a small nub of sorts between her slightly spread legs. "That's what feels the best."

He can't tell whether he has been neglecting that spot or not during his earlier ministrations, but he is most certainly going to devote it all of his focus now. His chest heaving, he moves his already sticky fingers to the spot she indicated.

His movements purposeful this time, the pawnbroker rubs experimentally along her folds, making certain to brush his fingertips along the place she brought his attention to. Belle _shudders_ when he does so, gasping his name as she tightens her hold on his arm.

His breathing becoming yet more rapid, Mr. Gold eagerly repeats the movement, increasing the speed and pressure when her moans grow louder and louder. Her eyes are tightly shut once more and she's backing herself bodily into him, none too subtly pressing her backside into his aching length.

He _growls_ against her neck in entirely instinctive response and given the way she pushes herself only more firmly against him, his reaction is somehow the opposite of unwanted. The pawnbroker continues his efforts with ever increasing vigor, putting his free hand to good use by grasping one of her breasts once more.

Sheer focus on her pleasure is the only reason he doesn't lose himself right there and then. His own arousal almost forgotten, he feels like he could go on like this for a long time... indeed, he would _love_ to do nothing but this for the rest of his life.

However, before Mr. Gold even gets to the point of wondering whether this will be enough to give her the satisfaction he was convinced he could never ensure, she goes tense in his arms, slumping back against him.

Glancing from his fingers between her thighs to her face, he finds her expression contorted with pleasure, right before she throws her head back. The wetness coating his fingers further increasing, the pawnbroker looks at Belle in sheer awe and disbelief alike when she finds her peak at his hands.

Later, when he isn't drinking in all the details of the most spectacular and wonderful thing he has ever seen, he'll marvel at the fact that he has apparently made her come undone so soon, almost so _easily_. But right now, all he can do is _stare_ and instinctively continue to stimulate her as her body shakes and her breath comes in heavy gasps.

After a while, she opens her eyes again, directly meeting his. She smiles broadly, almost languidly, and lets out a sigh of such satisfaction it leaves him trembling. His by now drenched fingers don't seem to create much of a reaction any longer, but he's still touching her regardless, wanting to do so for as long as he still can.

"That was _amazing_ ," she sighs happily, her smile brighter than the sun and almost blinding in its intensity. "Thank you so much."

All Mr. Gold can do is nod in agreement, if possible yet more awestruck than he was before.

"You're _very_ welcome to continue with this soon," she says, looking down at his still moving fingers, "but not yet."

Before he can ask whether he has done something wrong or whether there's something else she'd like him to do for her, she has stepped out of his embrace and turned to face him. Once more, all he can do is stare when he takes in the sight of Belle in all her bare glory, for the very first time without the use of a mirror.

"I'd say it's your turn now," she says, reaching for his belt.

"No!" the landlord cries out before he can think better of it, almost stumbling as he takes a step away from her, struggling to tell her that there are so many reasons she shouldn't offer to do this for him.

"I'm sorry!" she says, immediately lowering her hands, which were hovering near his still very visible arousal. "I didn't mean... I just assumed that you would _like_ me to touch you, but if you don't want me to..."

"You _want_ to touch me?!" he mutters, finding it yet more difficult to believe that all of this is real when she so eagerly seems to propose to reverse their role.

"I do," she replies softly, slowly but purposefully reaching for his hand, which he gratefully allows her to take. Even this relatively small touch leaves him trembling. "I don't think I've ever felt as good as what you just made me feel in my life. And even if you hadn't... I'd be happy to touch you as well. _Very_ happy."

"If you were to touch me like that, I probably wouldn't even be able to remain standing," he says, looking away as he acknowledges that there are unpleasant sides of his being that even she can't take away, his bad leg being a major one of them.

"We don't have to stand, do we?" she simply says, looking around in the back room of his shop.

Before he knows it, Belle has carefully moved the full-length mirror to the other side of the room, where it now faces the small cot he keeps there. Naked or not, she moves as confidently and elegantly as she always does and his throat goes drier yet as he merely looks at her.

"Join me?" she asks softly, nothing but a flush on her body when she extends her arm to him.

The pawnbroker takes it, leaning against her shoulders much more heavily than he would like as she helps him get to the other side of the room, his cane long forgotten.

"Look at you," she breathes when she positions him between the mirror and the cot, pressing her bare chest against his still entirely covered arm. "So beautiful."

There's a lump in his throat that doesn't go away no matter how much he swallows, and he has the sinking feeling that she is as aware of that as he is himself, but she still doesn't seem to care in the slightest.

"Let me?" she inquires softly, reaching for his tie.

He nods shakily, watching with increasingly tense muscles and trembling limbs when she slowly but surely undresses him. No matter how many of his protective layers she removes from his upper body, the rejection he still expects at any moment doesn't come.

If anything, her expression is somehow one of desire when she finally pulls his undershirt over his head, leaving half of his body just as bare as her own.

"So, so beautiful," she whispers under her breath, running her hand along his side.

Gasping at the touch, Mr. Gold looks from her hand on his body to their reflection and back again, neither image looking particularly realistic to him. But there's nothing imaginary about the way she steps closer to him and slowly, very slowly brings her face to his chest.

The mere sensation of her hot breath against his flushed skin has him panting, but that's nothing compared to the yelp he lets out when she kisses his chest. Rather than being disgusted by his over-excitement, she smiles against him and lets her tongue dart out to find one of his impossibly sensitive nipples.

His full awareness of their situation and his arousal returns when the contact sends lightning all through him, but especially the part of him which is becoming the most difficult to ignore.

"Let's get rid of the rest of your clothes before we get comfortable," she suggests, only moving when he nods in agreement.

As if it were the most normal thing in the world, as if she _enjoyed_ it, Belle helps him get out of his trousers, seemingly not even caring that he's basically a cripple and can't even undress himself when standing up.

She guides him to a sitting position, getting down on her knees in front of him to take off his shoes and socks as if that didn't bother her either. By the time they make a joint effort to get his boxer shorts off as well, the pawnbroker is too bewildered to particularly worry about her opinion now that she sees him naked.

In fact, when she rests her head on his shoulder and smiles at him in the mirror, he is more excited than anxious for what might follow. He watches her breathlessly in return, groaning before she has even actually touched him when she moves her hand towards him.

She places said hand on his thigh, smiling questioningly at him. Only when he nods shakily does she slide her fingers upwards. The brush of her fingertips along his length alone has him groaning out, the sound horribly loud and primal even in his own ears, but if anything this seems to encourage her.

No matter how much he might look at either their reflection in the mirror or the unreflected version of events, it would take a person much stronger than him to withstand such stimulation. As it is, it's difficult enough not to come undone right at her first gentle stroke even when he avoids looking at what she's doing.

His breath racing and his eyes tightly shut, he whimpers her name while she matter-of-factly pleasures him. Her soft lips against his heated neck are as much of a blessing as her snug grip on his length, her touch light but still more than enough to turn his world upside down.

Mr. Gold is vaguely aware that she's taking her time, that she takes pity on him by going slowly rather than proving yet more just how desperate he is for her. The realization that she wants him to enjoy this for as long as possible, if anything, makes him yet harder.

In the end, the knowledge that Belle is purposefully drawing this out for him only hastens the inevitable. Heat gathering low in his belly, his entire body goes taut before he spurts all over her hand and his stomach, pleasure flooding throughout his body.

Through a haze of bliss, he's aware that she's still touching him and muttering words of affection in his ear. Unable to think better of it, he lets his wonderfully content body rest against hers, sighing with a happiness he has rarely known before when she wraps a loving arm around him.

Unable to manage more than a few lazy glances through suddenly heavy eyes, he finds her pulling the blanket lying on the edge of the cot over their still entirely bare and rapidly cooling bodies.

"Please tell me I won't have to search half the state for a suitable dress again next time I want to do this?" Belle whispers to him before pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek.

"I'll do whatever you like," he murmurs sleepily, chuckling softly despite the tiredness overwhelming him at the notion that _he_ is the one having to be persuaded to do something like this again. "All you have to do is ask."

"Me too," she whispers fondly, to his relief looking rather exhausted as well.

They rearrange themselves without any more words, their only limitations the growing heaviness of their limbs as the cot is just big enough for both of them. Beyond delighted with how well the two of them fit together when Belle lies down on her side with her back to his chest, the landlord tentatively rests his hand on her stomach.

The last image he sees before drifting to sleep, the reflection in the mirror of their disheveled and very satisfied selves cuddling in the back of his shop, is the most beautiful one he has ever witnessed.


End file.
